Separation Anxiety
by I Will Achieve Vikturi
Summary: Viktor overworked himself trying to get back into competitive shape, so Yuri left him to rest while he went skating himself. Unfortunately, Viktor doesn't take his time away from Yuri very well.


Viktor sat lazily on the couch, surfing through the multitude of Russian television channels as boredom overtook him. As usual, there was nothing he was interested in watching; there were generic game shows and boring comedies and headache-inducing sitcoms, to say nothing of the modern cartoons that boasted nothing but screaming and not-so-mild themes, or the seemingly-epic thrillers that were nothing but a little action and a lot of sex. And so he just left it on a random talk show purely for noise. His phone did nothing to help since social media had nothing new to share. Nothing but the usual: Yurio being an angsty teenager, Christophe posting suggestive photos of himself, Georgi crying over his precious Anya...nothing interesting. He sighed and rolled over onto his side facing away from the noise box and throwing his rectangular block of useless information onto the table without a care. So it would be one of those days, then.

Every once in a while he had a day where he had no motivation to do anything. He hated those days, because they made him feel useless and unproductive and alone in the world. They gave him too much space to think, to drown in his self-destructive thoughts. Usually these days were spent skating, or drinking, but today he couldn't do either of those, not only because they had no vodka, but also because Yuri grounded him from skating for the day. Since Yuri moved to Russia with him, Viktor had been training tirelessly for his comeback season into the figure skating competition. But now he was tired, and Yuri, being his doting husband, picked up on it quickly and urged him to take a day off while he trained by himself. But now Viktor just sat around, unable to find some way to entertain himself without his partner.

"Oh, Yuri… Please come home soon…" he lamented, heart aching for Yuri. Maybe he was too dependent, but he just wanted his cuddly katsudon with him. He wanted to hug him and smother him in kisses and praise him for simply existing and lie down with him and whisper sweet nothings while they settled in together... But it was only one in the afternoon; still a few hours before he got home from the rink. Would he even last that long? Or would he slowly rot away in their own home, leaving nothing but a lonely corpse to tell Yuri he was even there? That he even existed?

The thought pushed him off the couch with a nervous start, anxiety creeping up on him as he flicked off the TV. His eyes darted around in search of his love. Where was his soulmate? Why wasn't he here? He needed him, or at least _something_ to calm him down. But all he could see was an empty living room, a cold, dense atmosphere that choked the liveliness and the vitality out of him, leaving a lifeless husk for anyone who discovered him to deal with. Maybe that was how he was meant to die: lonely, afraid, detached.

He nervously paced back and forth in the kitchen, the living room, the hallway, everywhere, trying to find his Yuri, completely lost in his anxiety and oblivious to reality. Panic was setting in as he continued to pace and Yuri was still missing. If he weren't so irrationally panicked he would have remembered Yuri was training, but conscious thought process was out of the question. Yuri's scent was fading from the apartment, as if to make things worse. The faint scent was about the only thing keeping him sane, but with that disappearing he had no idea how much longer his rational mind would stay.

The last place he could think to check was the bedroom, the only other place Yuri would be if he weren't…

Viktor stared into the cold room, the empty bed, the barren space only he occupied. His heart shattered at the knowledge that his precious Yuri was gone, splintering into thousands of jagged shards that stabbed his chest and pierced his lungs, preventing any air from entering his body. Said body fell to the mattress, now weak-kneed and his lip trembling, a forlorn whine passing from the depths of his despair into the physical world. Where was his Yuri!

A hitched sob sounded in the otherwise still atmosphere, followed by another, and then a failed attempt to hold back tears resulted in a wet spot on the pillow into which his face was hidden. It was nowhere near a pretty sight; big, ugly tears stained the pillow and his sleeves as he attempted to conceal his face from whatever being his imagination convinced him was watching. He gasped heaving breaths and he repeatedly sniffled to keep the rolling tide of snot at bay, only partially successful in the last endeavor.

Somewhere in the furthest reaches of his mind, the thought of Yuri being lost to the world crossed, leaving its deep, hideous mark. Desperately but to no avail did he fight these morbid thoughts back, but their persistent teeth still sunk into his brain, drawing out with them all traces of positivity and rationality that were left...if that was even possible. All it left behind was a despondent, broken man named Viktor Nikiforov and a poisoned soul. He clasped his hands over his ears to block out the intrusive voices telling him that _Yuri is gone, you have nothing left!_ but it only served to amplify them now that they reverberated in his ears with no means of escaping his head. Still, there was nothing else he could do with his hands save to hurt himself. When the voices refused to silence, his heart seemed to take hold of his voice and unleash the pent-up turmoil it held in itself in the form of a soul-piercing, heart-shattering cry.

After his voice died, he wavered in his spot and collapsed, all the while rolling off the bed and onto the floor. All of his energy spent, all he could do was pass out. All he _wanted_ to do was pass out, but there was a rough knock on the apartment door. He hugged the pillow that was dragged down with him impossibly closer to his breast and released another hoarse wail, albeit quieter. Whoever was at the door persisted, knocking more urgently this time.

And then the door was thrust open harshly, followed by hurried footsteps all throughout the flat, as if searching. Viktor didn't want to be found. He just wanted Yuri. He wanted his angel to sweep him up from the ground when his feet failed him this task.

A sharp gasp was heard as the steps ceased. He was found, then.

"Oh, God! Are you okay?!" the screeching female voice called to his nearly-deaf ears. He whimpered and closed in further, shaking. The woman was not at all eased by the sight, that much obvious when she then said "I'm calling an ambulance! You'll be okay, I promise."

"No! No hospital! Want Yuri!" he moaned, now afraid of the concept of a bunch of strangers carrying him out of his home, professional or otherwise. "Yuri, Yuri, where are you? I need you…"

"God, I am not cut out for this…" she bemoaned while pulling out her cell. "Alright, Viktor. Listen, I'm gonna call Yuri for you, okay? Just calm down for me. Take some deep breaths or something. Can you do that?"

But Viktor was not listening, too lost in despair.

"Yuri… Yuri… Yuri…" he repeated like a broken record, rocking back and forth, clinging impossibly harder to the pillow. He stuffed his face in the soft cotton as if it were Yuri's chest he was nuzzling instead of a lifeless headrest.

"Hey, Viktor! Can you hear me?" she snapped when she saw that he could not hear. His head snapped up at the authority in the voice, eyes blown wide. He stopped breathing for a second as he stared at the person he just began to notice was there.

"Yuri?" he questioned hopefully. The woman stood agape for a moment, disbelieving what she was witnessing. She violently shook her head negative.

"No, I am _not_ Yuri! It's me, Mila! I was just walking down the street when I heard you screaming!"

"Stop!" he shrieked, hands covering his ears as fresh tears covered his face. Where's my Yuri! I want Yuri!"

Mila saw the worsening of his state and cursed under her breath. She hurriedly punched in Yuri's number and tapped her foot impatiently as her phone dialed and started ringing. Thankfully, Yuri did not take very long to answer, voice sounding concerned on the other end.

"Mila, is something wrong? You never call me unless it's important," he said right off the bat. Clearly he was already on edge. What from, she did not know, but that was the least of her worries.

"You need to come home fast, Yuri! Viktor's having a complete meltdown and begging for you, and I don't know what to do!" Her voice ended on a high note, perfectly capturing her desperation. On the other end, Yuri swore, which was completely unlike him.

"Shit, okay. Alright, I'll be there soon. For now, just...stay there and take care of him."

"But _how_?" Mila begged while watching Viktor sob into the pillow.

Yuri thought for a moment, then had an idea. "Do you have earbuds on you?"

"Yes…?" She had no idea where this was going.

"Good. When we're done talking, go on your phone. You've heard of ASMR, right? ...Good, then look up a heartbeat one. Not one of those computer-made ones, a real recording. Viktor has always found a heartbeat calming, so maybe it will help. I'll be home as fast as I can, okay?"

Then Yuri hung up, leaving Mila all alone with the despairing Viktor all over again. She hesitated for just a moment, then did as she was instructed. It felt strange looking up ASMR on her phone, or in general for that matter, but she was willing to do just about anything at that point. She found a decent recording, one that was real as far as she could tell, and turned back to Viktor. As a quick afterthought, she grabbed a blanket off the bed and draped it over his shoulders, then settled the earbuds in his ears and hit play.

Viktor's anxiety and self-destructive line of thought were both cut off as the soothing heartbeat found its way into his ears and lulled his breathing to a slower rate. He found himself slowly warming as the panic that was forming began to slowly dissipate. His own heart slowed along with his breath to a slightly more relaxed rate, though he could still feel it thudding against his ribcage with each beat. He began to feel the gentle warmth of the blanket surrounding him and slowly drifting him along the currents of sleep. He didn't look up at the person who saved him from himself, but preferred to keep his eyes shut as he finally dozed off, the exhaustion hitting him full-on.

…

When Viktor woke up, it was dark in the room. He could only guess it was either late at night or early in the morning. Either way, he relished in the peaceful quietude the extreme hours provided.

Rolling over, he noticed that he was somehow moved into the bed sometime while he was out. The earbuds were also removed, and the blanket replaced with the larger quilt that stayed on their bed. He felt a soft lump lying next to him and turned to see Makkachin curled up at his side, sound asleep. A small smile perked the corners of his mouth up just barely, before it dropped off again.

"Yuri?" he called out softly, just above a whisper. Nonetheless he was given a response from in the other room.

"Coming!" came Yuri's reply. In just moments he graced Viktor with his presence as he sat down on the bed next to him, the mattress dipping a little under his weight. "How are we feeling today?" He brushed a strand of silver hair out of his husband's face lovingly and pecked his forehead.

"I've been better." Viktor shrugged the best he could given his current situation, then cocked his head a little to the side. "Why do you ask?"

"Viktor, you know why," Yuri asserted matter-of-factly, "You had a pretty rough night. I know you have problems with separation anxiety, but I never knew it could get that bad…"

"I-I'm sorry, Yuri." That was all Viktor could manage without crying all over again. Yuri was quick to pick up on the body language and caringly cupped his cheek and stroked his hair.

"Don't apologize, Viten'ka. I really should have been more careful, maybe taken the day off with you. But I guess my own anxiety was a bit on the high side yesterday, and I needed to skate." He nuzzled into Viktor's hair. "Shoulda thought things through first. I'm sorry I put you through that mess."

"Yuri," he whispered. He propped himself up on his elbows and gave Yuri a small, chaste kiss. Though the meaning behind it was clear. Yuri nodded and kissed back to avoid the sob that threatened to come out.

"I know, I'm getting emotional again. Can't help it though. You scared me." Yuri tightly embraced Viktor, arms circling around his neck and face nestling in his shoulder. "I never want you to go through that again."

Viktor managed a light chuckle. "Well, I'm not planning on it anytime soon. That is, if you'll stay with me."

"You don't even have to ask. Now move over!" Yuri playfully shoved him aside so he could get in under the covers, all while Viktor scoffed.

"You've wounded me! I don't think I can recover from this!" He slapped the back of his hand to his forehead, feigning pain. Yuri rolled his eyes.

"You're so melodramatic."

"I know, but you still love me," he teased. Now it was Yuri's turn to scoff, while pinning down Viktor with his body, head on his chest, much like Viktor himself had done before the Cup of China.

"Yeah, yeah. Now get some sleep, drama queen."


End file.
